


Glory

by Sealie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-19
Updated: 2011-08-19
Packaged: 2017-10-22 20:23:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/242213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sealie/pseuds/Sealie





	Glory

The kid was like four years old or even less. He stood in the centre of the sidewalk staring up at Castiel, mouth open in a soundless ‘o’ of amazement. Dean skidded to a stop as Castiel came to an abrupt halt directly in front of the kid.

“Hello?” Cas cocked his head to the side.

The kid simply blinked once, really slowly. Dark brown curls scrolled across his forehead. The blue dungarees he wore were a little large, folded up at his ankles, half obscuring his black sandals.

Dean cast around the semi-empty sidewalk looking for the responsible adult. There were no usual suspects -- no moms rushing forward.

“I am Castiel.” The angel dropped smoothly to one knee his coat billowing around him.

Experimentally, the kid stretched a single finger and poked the air, stopping a foot away from Cas’ nose. The smile that crossed his pale face was incandescent.

Cas stooped forward, the tails of his coat floating to the sidewalk. He brought his eyes level with the child’s sunbright hazel eyes. “Hello, Illya Pryanishnikov.”

Awestruck, Illya reached a little higher and, obediently, Castiel bowed his head. Dean watched as the kid traced a circle a thumb-width over Cas’ thick head of hair. The kid pealed out a truly infectious giggle, running his finger again around the circumference of Cas’ head.

“I am Castiel. I am an angel. And you, Illya Pryanishnikov, can see truly.” Right there in the middle of the street, Castiel settled back on his heels. A fat woman wearing impossibly tight sweatpants waddled by them completely ignoring the tableau. A Gucci suited man, intent on his blackberry circled around without breaking his pace.

Dean stepped up his habitual scan of the road, the sidewalk, the cars parked, any potential ambush point as Cas’ focus was absolute.

“Ask him where his mom is, Cas.”

“This troubles you greatly, Illya; when you see too much and what you see isn’t seen by your guardians.”

“Cas?” Dean gritted out of the corner of his mouth. There was a lady on the other side of the street, similarly dark curls whipping back and forth as she desperately darted from shopper to dogwalker to shopper and was finally brought face-to-face with a concerned police woman stepping directly into her path. “Is something weird happening? Gonna happen?”

“No.” Castiel scooped the kid up and stalked right out into the busy traffic.

“Geez!” Dean darted after him, brakes shrieked and horns blared. Castiel’s pedo coat billowed as he headed irresolutely towards a police woman holding a lost little kid.

Fuck, they were so screwed.

Both women spotted him simultaneously. A jeep screeched to a halt a hairsbreadth from Castiel’s side. The driver’s grip on the steering wheel was so tight that Dean could see her knuckles glowing like stars. Scuttling in Castiel’s shadow felt like wielding a shield.

“Illya.” The mom moved so quickly into their personal space, Dean could have thought that she was supernatural if he didn’t know the fear inspired by a lost kid. She reached out to grab Illya, but stopped, jerking as the kid looked straight at her. Suddenly her hands shielded her mouth, masking a soundless ‘o’ that mirrored her little kid’s when he had seen Castiel.

“Illya, this is your mother,” Castiel said, “Frances.”

Frances flicked a shocked glance at Castiel her brow furrowing, before flicking back to the kid’s engaged stare.

“Ma’am, do you know these guys?” The cop stood hip shod, shoulders wide as she gauged them. Her stance was observing but not judging.

“Yeah, we know little Illya,” Dean slipped in easily. “He wasn’t with his mom; we were worried -- brought him right over as soon as we spotted Frances.”

“Illya, perhaps you would like to say hello to your mother.” Castiel still held the kid comfortably against his left side, one arm under his butt. Illya’s tiny hand, little fingers splayed, rested over Castiel’s heart. Belatedly, Dean realised that simple sentence hadn’t been a question, it had been an order.

“Hi,” Illya piped and smiled a gap-toothed smile.

Frances burst into tears.

Dean fired his own version of gap-toothed smile at the cop. “It’s his first word,” he fudged, but he guessed that it probably was and that was pretty fucking amazing.

“How?” Frances asked reaching for her son.

Illya leaned out of Cas’ hold, hands grasping for his mom. The tears on her face simply ran, setting paler trails in her carefully made up face. For a moment both mother and angel held the child and then Illya latched on like a baby monkey.

“Mommy.” Illya patted her chest directly over her heart.

“Yes,” Cas intoned, “your mother.”

“How?” Frances repeated.

“Okay, time out,” the cop said, she looked Cas up and down. “You want to introduce yourself, Mr.--”

Inevitably, Cas’ head tilted to the side. Realisation took a heartbeat too long for Dean’s comfort in the face of a curious cop.

“Ah,” Cas breathed and with great deliberation – as if the angel couldn’t move any other way – he reached into his inner breast pocket and pulled out his i.d. He flipped open the wallet holding the FBI i.d. that Dean had forged for him. Holding it the right way up and, thankfully, professionally, he said, “Edward Marcon.”

“Sorry, Agent Marcon. You know how it is--”

“I do not,” Cas responded, still holding the i.d.

Dean elbowed him in the side. “Hi, I’m Ben. We okay to go now? We just wanted the kid back with his mom.”

“Mommy, I’m hungry.”

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Thank you. Thank You.” Frances darted forward, stretched up on her tiptoes and delivered the lightest of kisses on Castiel’s cheek. Blushing, she stepped back. “Thank you.”

Castiel stared at her, his hand slowly coming up to touch his cheek. “A heartbeat. A series of notes that Illya prefers over all else will help him focus. It will ground him. A hymn perhaps.”

Frances turned to the stocky cop – Dean lost a second admiring her petite form now that the danger had passed – her smile was incandescent. Frances was smiling so happily it was almost painful to watch. It was time to go. Dean caught Castiel’s sleeve with a hooked finger drawing him away.

The street was quiet and peaceful; in the space of a quick conversation the rush hour traffic had ebbed. The air was crisp and had the bright, spring sharpness that made Dean want to take an early morning run.

“That was pretty cool, Cas,” Dean said as they continued their amble toward the diner at the end of the block. “He is human, though, isn’t he? Not some evil, little changeling in disguise. Cos’ kids, I hate it when it’s kids.”

Lifting his chin, Cas exhaled, his breath misting on the air. Angels breathe, Dean noted.

“Yes,” he finally answered, “Illya is human.”

“So what’s up with the kid?” Dean had to prod again since Cas didn’t expand further. “Is he a vessel or something?”

“An ‘or something’,” Cas answered, after they had crossed the road and stepped up into the glass porch of the diner.

Rich, meaty bacon sizzling on a grill; dark-roasted coffee brewing on a stove; warm, sweet waffles greeted them as the door opened. Dean inhaled happily. Shepherding Cas with a hand on the small of his back to a booth, he was already deciding what he wanted for breakfast.

Slouching opposite a primly seated Cas, Dean asked, “So what’s the deal? With the kid, I mean. Did you heal him?”

The waitress poured two black coffees and set laminated menus on the plastic table top. “I’ll give you a minute.”

Dean nodded absently, more interested in Cas’ answer.

“Illya sees and feels truly; there are no barriers. It is… difficult for a small child to focus and understand when constantly at sea and what he sees and feels are not perceived by others. I did not heal him _per se_ rather I showed him that what he senses is real.”

“Is that gonna help?” Dean wiggled his fingers in the air. “There’s some things that kids are better not seeing, and if he can see them, they can see him. Wouldn’t it have been more useful if you’d taken away whatever it is or given him barriers?”

“I cannot and will not take away that which makes him who he is. However, I could offer succour. A heartbeat such as his mother’s is an excellent way to help him focus -- until he learns to control his abilities.”

“And he can hear his mom’s heartbeat?”

“Hear it and feel it and it will remain true for she is his mother.”

“You boys ready to order?” the waitress interrupted, pulling a pencil from the loose bun of jet black hair piled high on her head.

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Dean quickly scanned the menu. “I’ll have the breakfast plate with links and bacon. He’ll have oatmeal.”

The waitress glanced at Cas and raised a finely plucked eyebrow at his blank expression. “You okay with that, son?”

“May I have a spoonful of brown sugar sprinkled on my oatmeal?” Cas replied.

“Make it two,” Dean directed; Cas had a sweet tooth.

Scribbling on her notepad, the waitress sauntered back behind the counter. Admiring her curvy ass, Dean sagged further down in the booth relaxing. Absently, he tapped his ring against the edge of the table top.

“What did the kid see when he saw you?”

Cas carefully ran his finger around the rim of his coffee mug -- deliberately, perhaps -- imitating Illya.

“You got his attention from the other side of the street. Were you glowing or something? I never thought that you had a halo.”

Castiel raised an eyebrow. “I am an angel, Dean,” he pointed out. “Although the term ‘glory’ would be more accurate.”

“Yeah.” Dean squinted but saw no magic halo, he was strangely disappointed.

“Here you go, boys.” The waitress was back with a full plate and bowl of gruel. “You want ketchup?”

She set the dishes down. Dean smiled up at her. “Yeah, thanks. That would be real nice.”

She rolled her eyes at his blatant flirting; Dean couldn’t help himself it was beyond instinctual. He watched her turn and this time sashay back to the counter. Out of the corner of his eye, he just caught the edge of sharp, radiant whiteness like a concussion waiting to happen. Automatically, he jerked around to see it more clearly and the light disappeared but he faced Castiel directly.

Cas cocked his head to the side and there was the faintest of smiles on his face.

 _fin_


End file.
